


Vivace

by niesbixby



Series: Con Moto [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-17
Updated: 2014-09-17
Packaged: 2018-02-17 17:34:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2317685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niesbixby/pseuds/niesbixby





	Vivace

**Author's Note:**

  * For [debwalsh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/debwalsh/gifts).



Steve ties his tie with shaking fingers, looks at himself in the mirror, and gulps. Tonight is the night of his date with Bucky Barnes, violinist, and although he tries not to show it, he is terrified. Though he will never admit it out loud, Steve is actually incredibly insecure. Mostly about his height, but also about playing the piano. It isn’t the most masculine pursuit, he knows, and coupled with his size, it can give people an excuse to make fun.

Not like he’s not used to that.

Steve winces as he accidentally jostles one of his busted ribs. The blasted things are taking what seems like an age to heal, even though Fury has pronounced him fit to rehearse at night.

They’re still trying to figure Bucky out, from a professional standpoint. He can improvise on a theme for what seems like hours on end, but doesn’t know how to play Baa Baa Black Sheep. 

Even Hill knows how to play Baa Baa Black Sheep, and she is one of the most musically inclined people Steve knows, which makes absolutely no sense, given her profession. And although he knows that he should put rosin on his bow, he has no idea why. 

Steve can’t help but wonder what the extent of his education is. He thinks back to a conversation they had a few days ago. Steve had been dusting the keys of the baby grand at the auditorium when Bucky walked over, bow swinging loosely from his fingertips.

“Why do you do that?” he questioned.

Steve set down his bottle of Lemon Pledge and stared at him, rag in hand. “Why do I do what?”

He gestures at the cleaning product lying abandoned. “Why are you wiping it?”

“To clean it,” Steve answers, feeling extremely confused. Bucky nods and starts walking away when Steve calls out, “Hey! How did you learn this stuff, anyway?”

But Bucky just shrugs and keeps going out. “See you tomorrow, Mister Rogers.”

Steve fiddles with his tie, avoiding his reflection in the mirror. He knows what he will see. Too square a jaw in too sharp and thin a face. Blue eyes set too wide and a nose that is too strong for his angular face. He has surprisingly good figures, just set in too small a face. If he was only bigger…  
But he’s not, and he’ll just have to accept it. Steve has never been given to flights of fancy.

A knock sounds at the door, and Steve tears his gaze away from the mirror and rushes to the front door, trying to slip his dress shoes on as he does so. “Come in,” he calls, and the door swings open. Steve looks up and meets Bucky’s eyes. To his surprise, they widen slightly and the two of them stare at each other for what feels like forever, but is probably less than thirty seconds.

“Hi,” Bucky says. He is holding flowers. How did he not notice that?

“Hi,” Steve replies, straightening slowly.

“Hi, he says again, and Steve chuckles, But not in a mean way. Bucky smiles lazily, and the pit drops out of Steve’s stomach. “Well,” he drawls, “aren’t we thorough.”

Silence stretches out between them, and Steve is trying to think of something clever to say when Bucky seizes him by the elbow and escorts him out the door. And he barely has time to snatch his keys off the counter before the door closes behind him.

Okay, Steve thinks. This is kind of weird. He’s beginning to have some doubts about Bucky’s well being. He supposes that being a SHIELD agent for any length of time can’t be very good for one’s sanity. He’s got Natasha to go on for that.

Bucky pulls him to his car, a beat up tan sedan, and opens the passenger door. Steve gets in hesitantly, wondering what on earth is going on. They don’t speak until five minutes into the drive, when Steve finally works up the nerve to ask what the hell is going on. “Where are we going?” he says.

Bucky looks over at him, surprise evident in his eyes, as if it’s a perfectly reasonable thing to practically drag another person out of their house, put them in a car, and just start driving away. He has to remind himself that it would be rude to scold, and that is very nearly the only thing that keeps him from starting to shout. Steve closes his eyes and leans his head against the windows.

Bucky exhales shortly. “Oh. Sorry. I thought I told you what we were doing, but I just realized that conversation didn’t actually happen out loud. So I apologize for the kidnapperish vibes.”

Steve tilts his head up and cracks a smile. “S’ fine.”

“Good.”

“So where are we actually going?”

He looks affronted, and Steve has to stifle a laugh. “It’s a surprise,” he says, all injured dignity.

He leans his head against the window again and stares at the passing blurs that are all that’s left of the cars and trees and houses that they pass by. And Steve thinks. Try as he might, he just can’t pin this guy down.

One minute a stuttering buffoon, the next a smooth seducer, the next a would be kidnapper. Are these all Bucky Barnes, or none? Does he change faces as easily as he changes clothes in the morning? Is there even the slightest possibility that Steve has taken up with and willingly gone on a date with a complete sociopath.

Nah.

He completely discounts the thought as part of the paranoia that comes from spending too much time around Natasha. Because Natasha has turned into a total conspiracy nut, after two straight hours with Coulson and Hill. The three of them have this crazy theory about some secret organization called HYDRA that was backing Nazi Germany during WWII.

Steve sighs. Maybe they’re rubbing off on him.

A few minutes later, they arrive at one of the more expensive restaurants in the city, Stark’s. Steve’s jaw drops ever so slightly. He’s not that badly off, but even he knows that there’s absolutely no way he can afford to eat her. He’s about to say so when Bucky forestalls him with a single finger.

“Don’t worry about it. We’re only getting drinks.”

So Steve nods. But inside he wonders how far ahead he has planned this. Steve shakes his head. He really is getting paranoid.

He opens the door, steps out, and looks up at the sign. He is suddenly very glad he decided to wear a suit tonight.

They make their way into the restaurant, stopping by the host stand. The host studies them, then nods at Steve approvingly. He turns his appraising eye on Bucky and the carefully cultivated mask drops into something like barely disguised contempt.

Because Bucky is not wearing a suit. He is wearing dark jeans, a grey sweater, and a pair of black converse. And while this is by no means a disgrace, it is not quite proper to be wearing to a restaurant such as this. The host is about to say something scathing, he can tell, so he speaks up.

“We’re just going to the bar.” And with that, he wraps a hand around Bucky’s elbow and pulls him away from the host and to the bar area.

“I coulda handled that,” Bucy says a little sullenly, like a child being denied a treat. Steve has to resist smiling. Who gave this guy the right to be so adorable?

***

Bucky nearly chokes on his wine. “You’re telling me that little Steve Rogers was a trouble maker?”

Steve’s eyes sparkle with suppressed amusement. “Little Steve Rogers didn’t like bullies, no matter the fact that they all outweighed him by about fifty pounds.” They have finally arrived at the place where they’ll be eating, after getting kicked out of Stark’s five minutes after arriving. It might have had something to do with some creepy little guy who was walking around hitting on women. And Steve might have tried to stop him. And Bucky might have had to drag him out.

But that’s all hypothetical. And nobody can prove it.

“Bet your ma had to patch you up every day,” he comments.

Steve’s grin tightens into something resembling a grimace. “Yeah,” he replies.

His mother has been dead ten years now. To his credit, Bucky notices his discomfort right away. “What? What have I said?”

“Nothing.” Steve fidgets uncomfortably with the napkin lying discarded on the table.

Bucky leans forward and studies his face intently. “No, there’s definitely something. I can tell when people are lying, Mister Rogers.”

He can’t help but smile a little at the unnecessary formality. “Steve.”

He clasps his hands. “Okay. Steve. Why did you all of a sudden look like a death’s head when I mentioned your ma?”

Steve clears his throat. “She’s been dead for ten years.”

The muscles around Bucky’s eyes soften ever so slightly, although he doesn’t break eye contact. “Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.”

Steve waves a hand. “It’s not a problem. It just took me by surprise.” Then he changes the subject. “So, how did you start learning the violin?”

Bucky is awkward and stiff at first, but he gradually lights up with enthusiasm as he talks about music and Steve can’t help but smile at his obvious passion. He’s always found a love for music to be really beautiful in a person. Which Natasha has tried to take advantage of many a time. She’s made several attempts to set him up with various music lovers over the years. All to no avail, of course. 

He finds himself nodding along and laughing at some of the various escapades Bucky’s gotten himself into, busking on the street. 

“And then this old lady comes up to me and demands to know why I’m not playing Carnegie Hall. And I’m just like, ‘Lady, I just started learning this stuff!’”

“What about your parents? What did they think about you leaving a steady job and going into the arts?”

Bucky smiles, a lying smile that never quite reaches his eyes. “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

“What?”

“That’s what they told me.”

Steve winces in sympathy. “Ouch. That’s really horrible.”

He shrugs. “It’s fine. I’m pretty used to it at this point. I never really had much of a childhood.”

“I don’t even know what to say to that,” he replies, and his hand moves seemingly of its own accord to touch the other man’s wrist comfortingly. He stares at it. He didn’t mean to do that, did he?

Bucky glances momentarily down at Steve’s slim fingers splayed over his bony wrists and smiles involuntarily. “Thanks,” he says, and takes a bit of chicken with his free left hand. Causing Steve to withdraw his hand as if he’d burned it, and he flushes crimson.

They sit in silence after that, each stealing glances subtly at each other. Eventually Steve looks up and asks calmly, “So. What do you think of Director Fury?”

Bucky thinks for a moment. “Um, he seems okay. He’s kinda…intense, don’t you think? How’d the two of you meet, anyway?”

“He was auditioning accompanists for a steampunk version of Sleeping Beauty, and I tried out.”

“And?”

“I didn’t get it, of course. I was sixteen years old at the time. But Fury sent me an email the next day, asking me to come study under a friend of his, Dr. Erskine.”

Bucky starts twiddling his knife with an expert grace. “And was he a good teacher?”

“He was the best teacher I’ve ever had,” Steve says more hotly than he intended to, then resumes his study of the table.

“Was?”

“He was shot during a robbery a couple months ago.”

He freezes. “Oh. Shit, I’m sorry.” Then he changes the subject with little skill, but enough enthusiasm to make it seem natural. “Um…how do you think the show’s coming along.”

Steve flashes a grateful smile at him. “I think we’ll be ready, but we’re going to need some more funding.” He glances sidelong at Bucky. “Unless you want to go without being paid.”

Bucky holds up his hands. “Hey, if I could survive on love of the art alone, I would. But someone’s got to pay my ex-mob landlord.”

He chuckles quietly to himself. “My sentiments exactly. My only question is where we’re going to get the extra money.”

“Someone oughta ask Tony Stark. He’s practically swimming in money.”

Steve pulls out his phone and starts typing. “That’s a good idea. I’m going to tell Fury that.” He sends the message to Fury, and receives a reply less than two minutes later, reading, Meeting with Stark set for Wednesday after rehearsal. You will be expected to speak.

He looks up at Bucky and grins. “The boss loved your idea. We’re meeing with him after rehearsal.

“Great,” he replies, and grins. They finish eating dinner and exit the restaurant, after Steve insists on paying and Bucky has to charm the waitress into giving him the bill. 

The former SHIELD agent drops him back at his apartment, walking him back to the door. Steve unlocks the door, then shuts it behind him with a click. Steve sinks into the carpet, leaning back against the door, a blissful spread across features.

Best. Date. Ever.


End file.
